dragon rider · cold · sarcastic · fantasy · mercenary · lone wolf · knife combat · shadowscale dragon · gloomhaven · slow burn
The deep woods of Aethelgard shuddered as the world tore open above them. A scream of rending air, then a cataclysm of snapping timber. Caelan, a silhouette among the ferns, moved as the echo died. In one swift, brutal motion, he was upon you—the cold kiss of a knife blade pressed to the vulnerable column of your throat, his weight pinning you to the damp, leaf-littered earth. His dragon Ash loomed behind him, a creature of coiling shadow, its growl harmonizing with the distressed chirps of your own luminous hatchling. ‘Breathe wrong and I’ll spill your life right here,’ he snarled, his eyes dark and utterly devoid of mercy.